Holy hell, its been a wild ride these past handful of months. In fact, I think shit got serious when the ex finally moved out of our home at the beginning of November. I had two months – after giving notice to our landlords – to find a new home and start anew. I had become so accustomed to living a life I made with another, that starting over seemed impossible, even though I moved on.
Rent in Toronto is hella expensive, and as any writer knows, writing isn’t the most lucrative of careers. So though it broke my already somewhat-broken heart, I knew I had no other choice but to bid my condo adieu and start fresh.
I found a sublet in a condo a few blocks down to my former place on West Queen West. It was a two-month furnished spot I could stay in for a reasonable fee, until I figured shit out. Would I meet someone new? Would I travel for a few months and live that nomad life? Who was I to say. After I ended things with my ex/best friend, my world was a changin’. Consistency and commitment was the last thing on my radar. But staying in the same neighbourhood that I consider home was the closest thing I could get to keeping things as comfortable as possible; without too big of a ripple into my already wavy life.
But the two months flew by, despite the fact that I hibernated for all of January. Legit: All. Of. January. I declined invites to intimate society-type events. To media get-togethers, launches, tastings and the likes. I never made up an excuse. I never tried to hide that I was a bit down. It was what it was, and that’s life. You’ve been there before. We all have. It comes. It goes. And it’s ok, as long as you remember the low lows pass, and the best is yet to come. And it did.
Things picked up when I made the decision that come Feb 1st I’ll start saying yes. To dates. To events. To doing things that put a smile on my face. To downloading Bumble (a dating app many of my good friends swore by.) I found that the more I did and the more I said yes to, the more opportunities came my way. The end of the shortest month of the year was coming near, and I had no plans of where to move next. I wasn’t ready to commit to a one-year lease, and though all my furniture and belongings are in a pricey storage unit in Toronto – I wasn’t ready to get a moving van and move all my belongings elsewhere. But like magic, I didn’t have to.
An opportunity came up to head out to Aruba on a press trip, leaving in the early hours of the 29th of February. I packed up all the clothes, dishes and belongings I had at the sublet (a task I wish unto no one), packed up a suitcase filled with itty-bitty bikinis, and headed off for a much needed vacation. And sure I don’t have kids or a 9-5 job to run from, but goddamn, I’d gone through 3 moves within the same number of months and if that doesn’t call for a vacay, I don’t know what does.
After my noteworthy trip to Aruba, I found myself in Calgary. I went for a one-week trip, an easy getaway for me to embark on until I find a new home or another sublet. But I fell in love with the city and one week turned into seven. And boy, what a difference some much needed me time makes. What clarity distance brings. What growth.
I’ve now been back in Toronto, The 6ix, my home – born and raised – for a week to the day. And I’m finally ready. To figure shit out. To say I do. To say I do to commitments; to say I do to settling down.
I’m sorry, dear readers, that I’ve failed to blog during these times. Perhaps, doing so would’ve made for the greatest writing of all. But I’m here. I’m more here than ever, and I’m ready to pick up where I left off.
Feel free to shoot me a line at jen (at) thejenkirsch (dot) com if there’s anything specific you want me to cover, if you want to book a coaching session, if you have an event or engagement you’d like me to be a part of, or if you just want to say what up.
Photo: Jen Kirsch at Chateau Lake Louis.